White Fox

by Chen Jiatong

  Dilah took one last look back at the cozy little home, clutching the swaddling clothes between his teeth. Then he barreled down the snowy road. Soon, the baby was lulled to sleep by the motion, despite the cold. Along the way, there was nothing but heavy darkness and snow falling from the sky. Dilah kept replaying the scene he’d just witnessed over and over in his mind—how quickly Mideo’s and Lily’s happy lives had been cut short by other humans. For the first time, he wondered if he really wanted to be a human at all. How could they be so heartless?

  He didn’t know how long he’d been running, but soon the darkness thinned to gray and Dilah could see little Leo’s face, red from the cold. A few specks of light shone through the snow flurries. These specks grew larger and larger as houses began cropping up here and there alongside the road. Some of the windows blazed with light, and smoke hung over the rooftops. Dilah felt a strong surge of hope and relief; his strength was waning, but with people around he knew Leo would be saved.

  Dilah shuttled back and forth among the houses, looking all around, hoping to find someone. He couldn’t just leave Leo out here in the cold.

  A red door screeched open, streaming light out onto the snowbanks. A woman stepped outside, a scarf wrapped around her head, thick cotton slippers on her feet. She padded over to the firewood stacked beside the fence, bending down to pick up a few logs. Here’s my chance, thought Dilah. After shaking the snow off the wood, the woman started turning around to head back inside. At that moment, Dilah deliberately passed by and stood across from her on the other side of the fence, gazing at her expectantly.

  After a few moments’ hesitation, she cautiously approached Dilah and peered down at the bundle dangling from his mouth. When her eyes fell on Leo’s chilled red face, her terrified scream pierced the gray morning light.

  The wood in her arms clattered to the ground.

  Dilah set Leo down and started to back away, readying himself to run. But he was reluctant to leave until the woman picked Leo up. He wanted to know for sure that the baby was safe.

  The woman’s cries roused the sleepy village. Dogs barked. Several windows suddenly lit up. Some people pressed their faces against the windowpanes, others stuck their heads out the doors. A few simply put on their coats and came out to see what was going on.

  “The fox … it was holding a baby …” The woman appeared to be in shock. She didn’t approach the baby or Dilah, who slunk back, willing her to pick up Leo, who was now wailing thinly.

  The village was suddenly full of life. Draped in blankets and coats, people poured out of their homes.

  “Isn’t this Lily’s child?” a young woman called out. She rushed forward and gathered Leo up in her arms. “Poor little mite, he’s freezing cold.” She wrapped him up in her scarf and gazed down at him tenderly, and finally Dilah knew he was safe. He started to run—but he was surrounded. He headed toward a gap in the small crowd. “That fox stole a baby!” someone cried out. “Stop it!”

  A wooden club came out of nowhere and struck Dilah’s hind leg as he tried to run past. The pain was unbearable. He stumbled forward.

  “Out of the way!” an old man in a sheepskin hat fumed, aiming a shotgun at Dilah. Dilah’s heart clenched and he tried to scramble away, his leg throbbing.

  “Wait!” came another voice from the crowd. “It didn’t harm the child. Let it go.”

  Whoever it was, and whatever the old man decided, the voice provided enough of a distraction for Dilah to escape. He jumped down a small slope on the side of the road and sprinted off into the wilderness.

  Once he was a safe distance away, Dilah slowed down and rested amid the heavy, blowing snow. His heart was pounding, and his hind leg ached. But Leo was safe. He hoped the kind lady would adopt him. Either way, Mideo’s and Lily’s bodies would soon be discovered, and perhaps then the villagers would see that Dilah had never meant Leo any harm. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and relaxed a little.

  Once he’d caught his breath, Dilah raced off again, leaving another trail of clover-shaped paw prints in the snow.

  After what felt like forever, the snow eventually stopped—but this was small relief. Dilah limped along, the howling wind stabbing at him like a knife. He imagined Leo somewhere warm, sleeping safe and sound, and a flame blazed in Dilah’s heart, chasing away the bitter cold. He continued southeast, the moonstone dangling from his neck.

  Dilah had been traveling for days when he stepped onto a frozen river and hesitated, daunted by his desolate surroundings. Where was the moonstone leading him, and when would he arrive? All he could see was white. There was nothing here to satisfy his hunger. At a loss, he gazed into the distance and forced himself to trudge on. There seemed to be no end to this ice-covered earth. Hunger and despair gnawed at him. At last, he plopped down on a block of ice. How he missed the pine forest, the little stone cottage, poor Mideo and Lily, the baby and the shed, and all the food the family had left for him. He missed Egg and their time together traveling along the coast. But most of all, he missed his mama and papa. Suddenly, it was difficult to hold on to his dream. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe then he could forget everything he had lost.

  The sky was clear and cloudless. As Dilah looked up, blinking away his tears, a lone eagle spread its broad wings and glided through the air. Dilah rested his head on his paws. He was so sleepy, and he didn’t feel cold anymore. He drifted.

  After a few moments of peace, he was interrupted by a voice.

  “What’s the matter, lonely little fox?” It was the eagle he had seen in the sky, now perched on a dead tree nearby. “I wouldn’t recommend stopping here.”

  “Why?” Dilah asked, yawning.

  “Well, as you can see, there are no plants and animals around, only bitter winds, ice, and snow. Any creature who rests here is bound to freeze or starve to death. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

  “I’ve been walking for days. I’m tired and hungry. All I want is to sleep for a while.” Dilah’s eyes were already growing heavy. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he muttered.

  “If you close your eyes, you’ll never wake up,” the eagle warned. “Where were you on your way to, anyway?”

  “I have a quest … a dream, I guess,” Dilah said.

  “Well, that settles it! If you have an unfulfilled dream, you must keep going. You can’t give up.” The eagle’s words struck a chord with Dilah. What was he thinking? His mama had sent him on this quest. He could never give up. He blinked several times, stood up, and shook out his snowy tail.

  “Can you tell me where I can find some food?” Dilah asked.

  “That’s the spirit! The mountains are blocking the warm currents of spring. On the other side, everything’s in full bloom. If you can make it across the mountains, you’ll survive.”

  Dilah surveyed the never-ending chain of snowcapped mountains—towering over the horizon like white giants standing shoulder to shoulder.

  The eagle launched himself off the tree and into the blue sky. As he flew off, he called back at Dilah: “Hurry, white fox! And remember: If you have faith, nothing can stand in your way.”

  Soon, the eagle had disappeared into the distance.

  Dilah glanced down at the moonstone on his chest, coaxed some movement into his tired limbs, and started running. “Everything’s in full bloom on the other side of those mountains,” he told himself, remembering the eagle’s promise. “Things are looking up.”

  Spirits lifted, hope and courage bolstering his heart, he gritted his teeth to stave off hunger and darted toward the snowy mountains, leaving a fresh trail in the snow.

  After a while, a shape appeared in the sky—the eagle? Dilah paused and squinted … yes, the eagle was returning. A ringing, joyous cry erupted across the mountains as he dropped something from his claws. It landed in front of Dilah, who sniffed at it curiously. A frozen mouse. Dilah’s heart surged with warmth. He devoured it in one gulp. It wasn’t much, but it might just be enough to keep him alive. The eagle soared toward the mo
untains, leading the way.

  When Dilah reached the foothills, he looked up. The lofty, jagged peaks rose high into the sky. The eagle remained, flying higher and higher. Dilah wished he had wings too—but instead, he struggled on among the endless rocks, feeling like he’d been running for hundreds of years. Finally, the eagle circled high in the sky, and Dilah found himself perched atop the mountain peak. He gazed into the distance, transfixed by the view.

  A green forest stretched down the slopes—tall conifers and broad-leaved trees, droplet-laced branches glittering in the sun. At the end of the forest, a beautiful emerald lake shimmered with golden light, reflecting the lush green trees like a magic mirror. Beyond that, a tiny village nestled in a hollow, dotted with small mud-yellow homes and tidy patches of crops basking in the sun.

  “Wow!” Dilah marveled. He’d never seen anything quite like it. He only wished he had someone to share it with.

  The eagle screeched overhead, then wheeled away into the blue.

  “Thank you!” Dilah called up to the black spot in the sky as it drifted away, feeling his spirits lift.

  He bounded down the mountain, the heavy moonstone swaying with each step. By the time he made it to the bottom, it was early evening. Beams of sunlight streaked the horizon, trailing fiery red light between the trees. Small animals scuttled in the undergrowth. Dilah’s stomach growled. He darted through the forest, sniffing for something to eat.

  It wasn’t long before he caught a scent—a scrumptious one. His mouth watered and he rushed off in pursuit.

  He slowed his pace and crouched low in the undergrowth as the scent grew stronger. In the afterglow of the sunset, he spotted a small furry creature. The animal was struggling to haul something through the fallen leaves of the forest floor. Dilah inched closer and finally got a better look at him: He had a pair of watery black eyes, two tiny ears that poked up, thin black paws, a yellow back, and a white belly, and, as well as the delicious-smelling sack, he was lugging around a huge tail that was almost as long as his body. A weasel!

  The weasel was so focused on trying to drag his sack that he didn’t even notice the white fox watching him from the trees. Dilah had an idea that he couldn’t resist! He crept up close to the weasel, puffed up his fur to its fullest height, and—jumping out in front of the weasel—shouted, “Boo!”

  The weasel dropped his bag, screeching loudly. His eyes widened as he took in the fearsome fluffy fox. Dilah snarled, baring his teeth. The weasel promptly plopped down on the leaves and played dead.

  Dilah burst out laughing.

  The weasel furtively opened one eye and looked around. When he caught sight of Dilah giggling nearby, he snapped his eye shut.

  “Stop faking. You didn’t even faint,” Dilah said, unable to stop laughing completely. “Look, I’m sorry I frightened you. I just couldn’t resist!”

  The weasel blinked doubtfully. “So … you’re not going to eat me?”

  “Nah! But on the subject of food—is there anything to eat in here?” Dilah sniffed the bulging cloth bag and licked his lips. “I’m starving.”

  The weasel’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Of course, if you don’t mind what’s inside. Bon appétit!”

  Dilah tipped up the bag, and a handful of round and shiny green things rolled out. He’d never seen this kind of food.

  “What are these?” he asked the weasel, sniffing suspiciously.

  “Apples! Haven’t you tried one before?”

  Dilah shook his head and took a bite. The apple was crisp and tasted both sweet and sour. Delicious! He began gobbling them up, occasionally glancing up at the weasel. A curious expression passed over the weasel’s face as he watched Dilah eat with such relish. Moments later, the fruit was gone.

  “Yum! That was delicious!” Dilah smacked his lips. “Thank you!”

  “My pleasure,” the weasel said through gritted teeth. He rubbed his paws together in front of his chest and forced a smile.

  “I’m Dilah. I’m from the Arctic. You?”

  “Ankel. I live here,” the weasel replied. “Now, I really should be getting home.”

  Dilah could tell he’d upset the weasel by eating the fruit, even though he’d said it was all right. “Ankel, I’m sorry about frightening you, and I’m sorry about eating your—your delicious …”

  “Apples,” Ankel said.

  “Apples! Yes. I’m sorry, but if not for your apples, I might’ve starved to death!”

  “Eat up, eat up. Why should I care? It’s not like I had to bend over backward to get them or anything. Yup, they sure are tasty.”

  “Where’d they come from?”

  Ankel grinned and whispered, “Don’t tell Mom, but I stole them from a hunter’s house.”

  Dilah gasped, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat. Hunter? “There are h-hunters here?” Dilah stammered. Hunters had killed his parents …

  Ankel’s eyes glinted as Dilah’s ears flattened in fear. “Oh, yes! Not just hunters, but also hunting dogs,” he said eagerly. “Mom says they help hunters find animals who are hiding. They have sensitive noses. It doesn’t matter where you hide—they can track your scent. Hunters here like collecting animal fur. I’ve seen snow leopard skins, rabbit skins, and fox skins, as well as—”

  “Please stop!” The more Dilah listened to Ankel, the more terrified he felt.

  Ankel drew himself up tall, suddenly emboldened. “Mom says it’s wrong to bully animals who are smaller and weaker. I think you’re a thief who targets little animals. You stole my apples.” Ankel glanced at the empty bag on the ground.

  Dilah’s fear suddenly evaporated. “I’m not a thief!” he said indignantly. “You gave me permission.”

  “That’s, that’s because—”

  “And if your mama taught you bullying is wrong, didn’t she teach you that lying is also wrong?”

  Ankel’s face reddened beneath his fur.

  “Besides,” Dilah said, “I’ve already said sorry for eating all the apples, and thanked you for saving me from starvation! If anyone’s been rude, it’s you.”

  Eventually, the weasel shook his head. “A squirrel ran off with a nut I’d just gathered, and then a sparrow flew off with a strawberry I’d just picked, and then this—I’m so unlucky today!” He let out a long breath, his body like a deflated balloon.

  “I can help you find other tasty treats—how does that sound?” Dilah suggested.

  “All right. You offered. You’d better keep your word,” Ankel said, managing a smile—and Dilah knew he was forgiven. It was late now, and bright moonlight washed over the forest like a waterfall. “Arctic fox, why’d you come all the way here?” Ankel asked.

  “Call me Dilah.”

  “All right. Dilah, why’d you come here?” Before Dilah could figure out how to reply, Ankel clapped his paws. “You don’t have to answer. I already know. You wanted to escape that stinking Arctic winter, didn’t you?” He raised a paw to his mouth. “Oops! Mom doesn’t like it when I say bad words.”

  “Ankel? Ankel? Is that you?” a voice called out from somewhere nearby.

  “Uh-oh! That’s her. I forgot the time!” There was a sudden uneasiness in Ankel’s eyes. “Mom—I’m over here!”

  The branches of a shrub rattled and a middle-aged weasel stepped out, glaring at Ankel angrily.

  “How many times have I told you to come home before the sun goes down? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Don’t you realize how dangerous it is out here after dark? You could come across a hunter, or a wolf,” she said. Ankel lowered his head. “Or a-a-a f-f-fox?” As soon as she’d caught sight of Dilah, Ankel’s mother had started stuttering.

  “Dilah, this is my mom, Azalea,” Ankel started. “Mom, this is—”

  “Ankel, get behind me—now!” Azalea glowered at Dilah as though he were the enemy. He sat neatly, with his tail curled around his paws, and cocked his head to one side.

  “Mom, don’t be like this. He’s a friend. We’ve just been talking.” />
  A friend! Dilah’s heart lifted.

  “No fox is going to tell you he has ill intentions. Get over here now! Did you hear me? We’re going home.” She turned her burning glare on Dilah. “And as for you, stay away from my son.”

  “I’m sorry, Dilah. My mom is always on high alert,” Ankel said to Dilah as he prepared to leave.

  “It’s OK,” Dilah said, smiling. What mother didn’t look out for her child?

  Ankel obediently followed Azalea out of the clearing, words drifting back to Dilah through the quiet night.

  “How could you spend all evening chatting with a fox? It’s so late! Didn’t it occur to you that he could kill you at any time? It’s not normal for an Arctic fox to be here!” The sound of Azalea reprimanding her son grew softer, eventually fading away, leaving Dilah all alone.

  He thought of his mother, his heart aching. If only Mama were to show up and give him a stern lecture, he would be the happiest fox in the world …

  Moonlight sifted through the leaves, casting mottled white shadows on the ground that were as milky as pearls. Dilah removed the moonstone from his neck, searched for a relatively empty patch of grass, and opened the leather parcel. The moonstone shone with its mysterious blue light. The small, golden crescent moon in the center began to glow again, then was spinning and spinning until it finally stopped at a fixed point, drawing him farther southeast. But Dilah knew he wasn’t strong enough to carry on just yet.

  He found a comfortable hollow at the foot of a tree and sprawled out on the leaves. These past few days had worn him out so much that he fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

  The next morning, Dilah was awakened by birdsong. He blinked, his eyes heavy with sleep, and saw magpies perched on the branches above him, chirping loudly as they tended to their nests. He stood up and shook his body. After the apples and a good night’s sleep, he felt stronger than he had in a long time. The sun had already climbed partway over the forest, bathing the earth in warm light.

  Dilah decided he’d spend some time here, gathering his strength after the difficult journey across the mountain pass. As he trotted through the forest, he caught a whiff of Ankel’s scent. Following it, he found Ankel’s home close by—it was half of a large, dead tree trunk that looked like a giant bone sticking out of the underbrush. There was a small hole in the tangled roots, extremely narrow and surrounded by vines. Only one weasel would be able to enter or exit at a time. As Dilah approached, Azalea was sauntering toward the hole, carrying a pinch of straw in her mouth. She noticed Dilah and froze in surprise, then glared at him, as though she thought he was preparing for an ambush.